A Dalton Boy on His Knees
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: On a dare, Sebastian goes to a BDSM club where he meets a young dom and the club's owner, Kurt, who takes Sebastian on as his pet for the night. Dalton!AU Dom!Kurt, sub!Sebastian Dom!Elliot Age difference, not underage. Warning for bondage, flogging, and other D/s situations Kurt H., Sebastian S.
1. A Dalton Boy on His Knees

**A/N:** _On a dare, Sebastian goes to a BDSM club where he meets a young dom and the club's owner, Kurt, who takes Sebastian on as his pet for the night. (Warning for shaming, bondage, flogging, age difference but not underage, smoking, and slightly genderfluid dressing.)_

It starts with a dare among the upper classmen. Wes found out about the club on a weekend trip to Columbus with his parents, and a lot of big talk later there were plans to go and wagers made, carpools assigned, but as luck would have it Sebastian is the only one who follows through. He is more intrigued and excited than he outwardly admits, not wasting time to change out of his Dalton uniform when he leaves so as not to get stuck in afternoon traffic. He arrives at the BDSM club ten minutes earlier than planned, but over an hour later he's still standing outside alone.

"Fucking cowards," Sebastian mutters beneath his breath, but he's not going to spend the evening slinking back to Dalton without seeing any action just to bitch about being stood up by his pussy friends.

Sebastian stands in the shadows and watches the customers walk by, trying to get a feel for the clientele, waiting for an opening to jump in. He's normally not so nervous, but deep down he knows this isn't a regular bar or night club, and even though he played out this scenario a dozen times in his head on the drive over, he's not sure how to begin.

A tall, thin man rushes by and catches Sebastian staring from his hiding place against the wall. The dress code everyone here lives by seems to require tight jeans, some sort of revealing top, leather and spike accessories, black eye makeup, and en excessive amount of piercings. The man speeding by has taken this look to extremes – a ring of liquid liner perfectly applied around his eyelids; multiple rings in his ears, his eyebrow, and his nose; and spiked bracers on both arms. Their eyes lock for a second before the man breezes into the club as if he owns it.

"Live past your stereotype," Sebastian mumbles with a huff. He waits a few more minutes, checking his cell phone one last time for a text, a missed call, anything, before finally making the decision to wander inside. He pushes off the wall, searching his back pocket for his wallet and his fake I.D.

"Hey, preppy," a distinctly high and authoritative voice calls out, commanding Sebastian's attention. "Are you out here looking for trouble?"

The thin man he had seen enter the club earlier is bearing down on him, having exited the club from a rear door and circling around the building toward the entrance.

"Jeez," Sebastian says, leaning back against the wall to soak this man in, his uniquely beautiful face scowling at Sebastian with an unexplained expression of disgust. "Could you be anymore cliché?"

"I could," the man says, crowding Sebastian in, putting a hand on each side of his head and pinning him with his body, "if I had the time to fuck around. But I'm getting a little sick and tired of you privileged Catholic school boys coming here and harassing my customers. So if that's what you are, you can blow away on your own or I can call my bouncer out here and he can make you take a walk…" The man bounces his head back and forth with a look of mock contemplation on his face. "…but probably minus one testicle. It's your call."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sebastian takes a defensive step back but with nowhere to go he smacks his head onto the brick behind him. "I'm definitely not a Catholic school boy," Sebastian chuckles, not missing the irony. "I'm actually a customer."

The man steps away from Sebastian and raises an eyebrow, grazing over Sebastian's uniform with wary eyes.

"I-I was supposed to meet some friends, but they wimped out on me," Sebastian explains, feeling the heat from this man's glare on his skin, searing him like a branding iron.

"I see," the man says, his voice somewhat calmer, not entirely impressed by Sebastian's story but apparently convinced that parts of it are true. "So, are you afraid to go inside, or do you need some…guidance?"

Sebastian's mouth goes dry. His first instinct in any normal club would be to buy this man as many drinks as it would take to convince him to follow him into the bathroom for a quickie, but Sebastian can't quite imagine taking him on his hands and knees. This man is in his element here and quite obviously has the upper hand, which puts him in control. Sebastian has never met a man like him before. He's not necessarily intimidated by him, but he can't help but be a bit in awe of him - his confident strut when he walks, his 'I'm hot as fuck and I know it' attitude, his shit eating grin, and the subtle simmer in his ever changing blue-green eyes. It brings out something unusual in Sebastian, something he knows he's never felt before. He wouldn't mind giving in to this man; wouldn't mind bending to his whims, especially if it gives him the opportunity to take a peek at what's hiding beneath his severely tight jeans.

Suddenly he's thankful that no one else showed up.

"A little assistance might be nice." Sebastian's normally smooth, cool demeanor falters beneath the other man's disarming, hungry grin. "This is my first time at a club like this."

"If you need some help, what would you say to being mine for the night?" the man offers.

"I don't know," Sebastian says with a shrug, looking the young dom up and down, from the purple streak in his upswept hair, to the oversized gauge in his left earlobe, the flock of small blackbirds tattooed around his neck, down his black net shirt, and his knee-high stiletto boots, shiny patent leather gleaming like an oil-slick beneath the arch sodium street lights. "I guess I'm up for anything."

"I'm Kurt."

"Sebastian." His name almost catches in his throat when Kurt's eyes travel down his body, sizing him up, lingering somewhere around his waist, and return back up to his eyes.

"Do you have some I.D.?" Kurt asks, raising a hand and making a motion with his fingers. Sebastian pulls out the driver's license he paid way too much money to have made, but he considers it money well spent when Kurt hands it back with a pacified nod.

"Well then…" Kurt tilts his head, his blue eyes shining in the shifting light, "we'll start you off as a puppy, which means you'll spend the night on your hands and knees. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I think so, Kurt," Sebastian responds nonchalantly.

Kurt's eyes immediately go dark.

"No, no, no," Kurt tuts. "You refer to me, when I allow you to speak, as _master._ Understand?"

"Absolutely." Sebastian nods, biting back the urge to roll his eyes.

Kurt crowds against him again, and the heat that radiates from his eyes, the no-nonsense self-control, kills any urge Sebastian has to sass him back.

"I am your _master,"_ Kurt repeats in a low, dangerous tone, "and you are my _pet._ You will not speak unless spoken, too…" Then Kurt backs away, and his eyes become softer. "But if there's anything I do that makes you uncomfortable, your safe word is 'butterfly'. Understand?"

Sebastian swallows.

"I understand," he says in a more respectful voice.

Kurt curls his fingers into the Windsor knot of Sebastian's tie and tugs sharply down, bringing Sebastian to his knees. He turns the tie around, using it as a leash.

"Then come along, puppy," Kurt says in a sing-song voice, pulling Sebastian along with him through the double doors of the club.

The room they enter is dark, the music loud, but from what Sebastian can see it looks like any ordinary club. Sebastian scuttles along after Kurt, trying his best to keep up, never realizing how difficult it would be to crawl on the floor before he agreed to it. They enter the main room and Sebastian can see the legs of tables and chairs, and a faux wooden dance floor. Wandering around are other doms parading their human pets, some with collar and leashes, in all manner of dress and undress. Sebastian sweeps his eyes over the groups gathered around the room. He finds it unreal how much pleasure these pet subs seem to get from being made to heel. Some of them lie at their master's feet; some curl around their master's legs; some sit up straight at attention waiting on commands.

In any other situation, Sebastian might find this behavior dehumanizing, but sitting at Kurt's feet while Kurt runs massaging fingers through his hair gives Sebastian a tremendous sense of peace, of safety, and with that, an urge to please Kurt.

An hour later, however, Sebastian is bored as shit. Kurt and his friends jabber away about fashion, about some school called NYADA, but most of all about musical theater of all things. Sebastian rolls his eyes more than once, much to the dismay of another dom's pet sitting across from him who tries to signal him with wide, pleading eyes to stop.

"Whatever," Sebastian mutters, and that single word, spoken without permission, catches Kurt's attention.

The conversation at the table stops dead. The other doms sitting with Kurt look playfully affronted with wicked grins on their faces, while the other sub simply gives up on his wayward friend and lies contentedly at his master's feet.

"Oh, preppy," Kurt coos condescendingly, cupping Sebastian's head in his hands and talking to him nose to nose the way he would address a disobedient dog. "You broke the rules, pretty boy."

"What are you going to do with him, Kurt?" a bubbly African-American woman seated at the table asks. "I mean, he's only a puppy after all."

The baby talk gets on Sebastian's last nerve but he focuses on staring straight ahead and waits for Kurt's decided punishment.

"It's his first infraction." Kurt screws up his face and looks at the ceiling, giving the matter some not so serious thought. "Maybe I'll go easy on him." Kurt looks back at Sebastian and smiles, running a finger over Sebastian's lips, making them tingle. "I think that pretty mouth of his can lick my boot."

Sebastian hears Kurt, but he doesn't move. He can't have heard what he thought he heard.

Kurt fixes Sebastian with hard, determined eyes.

"Lick my boot," he commands firmly.

Sebastian locks eyes with Kurt, defiant green challenging a more amused blue.

"No?" Kurt asks when Sebastian continues to stare. "Well, then that makes two strikes for you, puppy."

"Uh-oh…" another dom at the table, an older blond with a distinct British accent, says.

Kurt slips from his chair and kneels on the ground beside Sebastian, pushing with a hand between his shoulder blades until he's lying with his cheek pressed flat against the ground.

"You look like the kind of boy who gets by on his charm and wraps people around your finger," Kurt whispers. "You probably have a whole harem of little boy toys at that expensive school of yours jizzing all over themselves to do whatever you tell them to." Kurt's amused smile grows into a devilish grin. "I think I know exactly what you deserve."

Kurt sits back up on his chair and beams.

"Two strikes!" Kurt announces to the table. "You all know what that means!"

Laughter rises up around them, and the blond man smacks the table with the flat of his hand as if sharing the hidden punch line of a shared joke.

Kurt turns his attention back to Sebastian with laughing blue eyes.

"Puppy needs to be spanked," Kurt says, overemphasizing his words to be sure they're understood, "so puppy is going to get flogged."

Kurt bends down to grab hold of Sebastian's tie, pulling him up till Sebastian is kneeling close to Kurt's mouth.

"Please tell me you're at least 18."

Sebastian scoffs quietly, then bites his tongue hard to keep from doing anything else stupid, but Kurt seems to let it slide.

"You saw my I.D. I'm 21," Sebastian insists.

Kurt shakes his head.

"Yeah, and I've seen enough fake I.D.'s in my time working here to spot one from 50 miles away," Kurt hisses. "Yours is good, I'll give you that, but it's not real."

Sebastian sighs in defeat.

"Yeah, I'm 18."

"Excellent," Kurt says brightly, standing and pulling Sebastian, practically dragging him across the floor when he stumbles trying to keep up, falling forward and knocking his right elbow into a chair leg.

"We're headed to the paddle room," Kurt calls to onlookers as they pass by, "if anyone wants to come."

The hair on the back of Sebastian's neck prickles and stands on end at the thought of a crowd of people trailing after them to watch him get spanked, but only a few couples take the bait.

The paddle room is about the size of a small classroom, empty except for a set of long benches along the walls. There are some strange pieces of furniture and various odd implements scattered around that Sebastian doesn't get the time to examine since he's being dragged along to a pair of wood blocks in the center of the room.

"This is my favorite," Kurt says. "We call it the pew. A lot of praying happens here."

The pew is two long pieces of polished wood set a few feet apart with shackles and cuffs chained at each end. Kurt stops Sebastian in front of it. He drops the tie and circles Sebastian lazily. Sebastian hears Kurt's heels click against the smooth floor and then stop somewhere behind him. Kurt pulls Sebastian's pants and his boxers down to his knees, and then rolls his shirt and his blazer up his back, exposing him to all eyes in the room. Sebastian shivers, blushing over every inch of skin, which is definitely a feat since not much makes Sebastian blush.

Sebastian isn't ashamed of his body, but being laid bare in public, made vulnerable partially for other people's amusement, is not something he's used to. It's uncomfortable and demeaning. Still, being flogged by Kurt anywhere seems super hot, and Sebastian isn't willing to back down. He's in this for the long haul.

Kurt settles him over the wooden blocks, starting by spreading his legs wide to secure Sebastian at the knees to the ends of the first wood block, and then pulling his body forward to cuff his wrists to the second wood block. It's awkward but not too uncomfortable…until Kurt pulls the wooden blocks apart, stretching Sebastian out across a farther distance in an extended plank position. Sebastian's stomach muscles strain to keep his body upright, and Sebastian clenches his teeth to suppress a groan.

"Nice abs, preppy," Kurt says, patting Sebastian's stomach and humming appreciatively. "You must have some incredible stamina." Kurt crouches down and whispers so only Sebastian can hear. "Could you imagine me fucking you on this thing?"

Sebastian closes his eyes, a sudden rush forcing the blood in his brain south of the equator as he envisions this beautifully pierced and tattooed man pounding in him from behind, completely naked, manicured nails digging into Sebastian's hips, that sing-song voice chanting Sebastian's name over and over and over…breathy…broken…

"Open your eyes, preppy," Kurt purrs, "there's something I want you to see."

Sebastian's eyelids open slowly, and then blow wide at the flogger in Kurt's hand.

Kurt grips a stunted handle wrapped in red leather. Twelve braided black leather plaits spill from the end, and at the tip of each, a perfect red leather rose. Sebastian's flexes his hands in his cuffs, his palms sweating profusely. His whole body shudders as he breathes too quickly.

Sebastian's not afraid of many things, but he's not an idiot. He doesn't like pain.

"Calm down, preppy," Kurt mutters soothingly. "You know the safe word. Say it once, and this all ends…but I promise you, you'll enjoy it." Kurt runs the flogger up and down the length of Sebastian's back, the leather roses stroking his skin like fingertips; gentle, light touches that raise goose flesh all over and Sebastian starts to relax. He breathes in deep and melts against the wood. Kurt gives Sebastian no warning, so when Kurt pulls back and lets the flogger fly, the strike startles Sebastian more than anything. The roses land in a spray over his body, some hitting his spine, most hitting his ass, a stray one or two brushing his balls. He yelps, a sound that's a confused mixture of pain and surprise. Around him voices titter. He hears muffled whispers and the shushing of doms to one or two less disciplined subs.

Kurt gives Sebastian a moment to register the strike, and then hits him again in roughly the same spot. Sebastian jumps, but doesn't yelp quite as loudly this time.

"So how was that, puppy?" Kurt drawls. Sebastian can hear the smirk in his voice, the subtle tease, embedded layers of control.

"Oh my God," is all Sebastian can manage through quivering lips. He doesn't know what else to say. He's never been spanked by anyone in his life. Once the sting dies down, once the pain ebbs away, every inch of his body sparks with arousal.

"Shall I do it again?" Kurt asks, standing smugly poised beside Sebastian's body with the flogger at the ready.

Sebastian considers the question for a second. Does he want to be spanked again?

"Yes," Sebastian rushes in a desperate breath.

"Yes, what?" Kurt asks tightly.

"Yes…please?" Even as the words leave his mouth he knows he's forgetting something. He wracks his brain for the right answer, his head muddled by the heat rising along his bruised cheeks and the need to feel that flogger against his skin.

"Yes…please…what?" Kurt leads him along, fanning the tails of the flogger over Sebastian's back. He feels the breeze of them swaying back and forth, but they don't touch him, and God does he want them to touch him.

"Yes…master." He comes to it with a triumphant chirp that makes Kurt laugh.

Kurt strikes Sebastian again, three times in succession, and Sebastian's body trembles, his wrists straining in the cuffs. Kurt takes a moment to circle Sebastian's prone, bound body and admire the view – the welts forming on his skin, his muscles fighting to keep him suspended, and his tight hole clenching with every hit. Kurt swings and slaps him again, a little harder to see that hole tighten around thin air. Kurt's own cock responds to the thought of those muscles closing around him, fitting over him like a glove.

"Are you going to fuck your puppy?" a faceless voice calls from somewhere in the room.

"I might," Kurt teases, "if he was being a good puppy."

Kurt hovers by Sebastian's ear, muttering softly from behind, "and if he was old enough to legally be here."

Kurt straightens up and swings again, and this time a fatigued Sebastian grunts out loud. His reaction to being spanked is so glorious – sweat beading along his back, his legs quivering with effort, his cock, flushed and throbbing, curved up against his taut stomach. Kurt strikes him again and watches as Sebastian's cock bounces in response.

"I don't think I'll have to fuck him to make him cum," Kurt comments aloud with a satisfied giggle and another hit.

Kurt's cock is growing painfully in his own jeans, and he begins to question who's really the one being punished here. It almost makes Kurt weep at the thought of how long it's been since he's fucked an eighteen-year-old.

"Have you ever had an orgasm off the end of a flogger?" Kurt taunts. He lets the tails trail between the crack of Sebastian's ass, the rose ends playing over his balls. Sebastian squirms, trying to follow the plaits as they leave his skin.

"No," Sebastian grumbles in frustration, so close to cumming, so close to collapsing.

Kurt hits him again and again, giving him no time to rest, edging him closer, and when Sebastian's arms and legs are about to give out, Kurt stops and steps away from the pew, taking a long, deep breath to steady himself.

"God, you do want it, don't you?" Kurt pants, as ready to explode as Sebastian looks. "You're so hot and ready for it, aren't you?"

Sebastian's not entirely sure this isn't more than a rhetorical question, but he can't help answering it anyway.

"Yes," he says, the word a barely audible sound.

"Come on, puppy," Kurt says, crouching down and threading his fingers through Sebastian's sweaty hair. "Tell me you want it."

"I w-want it," Sebastian stammers.

"Beg for it." Kurt yanks hard on a fistful of Sebastian's hair, his lips so close to Sebastian's mouth that Sebastian can taste Kurt's breath – hot and sweet and intoxicating.

"P-please…"

"I'll give you what you want…" Kurt releases Sebastian's hair and his head drops on his tired neck, "…if you lick my boot."

Kurt stands and raises a knee, resting his stiletto heel on the wood block in front of Sebastian's face, inches from his mouth. Sebastian pants, watching his breath condense on the shiny surface. This time Sebastian doesn't hesitate. He attacks Kurt's boot as if it was his mouth, placing an open mouthed kiss to the ankle, licking over the joint and polishing the patent leather with his tongue.

"That's it, puppy," Kurt murmurs, leaning over and lashing Sebastian again.

Sebastian moans into the leather of Kurt's boot, the sound sending delicious vibrations tickling up Kurt's body, all along his spine. Sebastian hears the sounds of quiet muttering and whining in the dark outskirts of the room, the sounds of cuffs and shackles being locked as other inspired doms start sessions of their own around them.

"I'm going to make you cum just like this," Kurt groans, lash after lash snapping against Sebastian's skin, and Sebastian wonders in a brief moment of clarity amidst the haze of his mounting orgasm how close Kurt might be to cumming. Would Sebastian know if he does? Kurt seems so put together, so in control.

It suddenly doesn't matter when Sebastian feels the strikes get harder, coming faster, splintering along his ass, slipping into his crack, grazing his balls, a few strikes managing to propel the plaits around his hips to skim the roses along his throbbing shaft. Sebastian sweats across his forehead and into his eyes, finding it harder and harder to focus on his task, especially since his mind has begun to drift and he imagines licking over Kurt's pale skin, tracing his tattoos, his piercings, chasing that flavor of sweet and hot in his mouth, exploring his body to see if he can find it anywhere else.

What would it take to make Kurt squirm, to make him cry out in ecstasy?

What does Sebastian have to do to find out?

Sebastian's orgasm barrels through him like a freight train, hit after hit, until his muscles give out and he can barely move, every nerve overwhelmed by the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain; too much with not enough. If Kurt came, Sebastian doesn't know, though when Kurt undoes Sebastian's cuffs and pulls him into his arms, cradling Sebastian's spent and half-dressed body against him, there's no mistaking the wild thrumming of Kurt's heart in his chest.

Kurt holds Sebastian against him, making vague and obscure hand gestures to someone in the room, and the next thing Sebastian is aware of is a warm, wet cloth cleaning him up; steady hands pulling up his pants and fastening his fly.

Sated and utterly at ease, Sebastian can feel himself fall away in Kurt's arms. He must have started to doze off because he hears Kurt laugh where his ear rests against Kurt's chest, and a hand shaking him gently. Sebastian rolls his head on his shoulders to look up into the dom's eyes.

"You smoke cloves?" Kurt asks, pulling a pack from his pocket and giving it a little wiggle.

"Yeah," Sebastian says unconvincingly. "Yeah, sure."

"Of course you do," Kurt smirks. "Why don't we go outside and talk."

Kurt stands, but Sebastian positions himself on his hands and knees, preparing to crawl.

"No, no," Kurt chuckles, grabbing Sebastian's arm and pulling him to his feet, "I think you've earned the right to stand."

Kurt holds Sebastian's elbow and leads him to a hidden fire exit door in the paddle room, opening it and walking outside, letting the door shut behind them. Sebastian watches Kurt hit the pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand. An awkward silence threatens to surround them so Sebastian says the first lame thing that pops into his mind.

"So is this really your club?"

"Yup," Kurt says, taking a clove cigarette out of the pack and offering one to Sebastian. He smiles wickedly when Sebastian takes it and holds it ungainly between his fingers. "Well, it's a partnership between me and an old friend from school."

"How old are you?" Sebastian asks as he watches Kurt light his cigarette.

"What do you mean 'how old are you'?" Kurt takes a drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke out quickly from the corner of his mouth. "Fuck you, that's how old I am."

Sebastian smiles, more bashful schoolboy than the overly confident smirk he's used to wearing.

"It's just that you look awfully young to be the owner of a club like this."

Kurt flicks the lighter in front of Sebastian's face. Sebastian puts the cigarette between his lips, inhaling deep when Kurt lights the end. The sweet smelling smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently. He stands up straight and takes a deep breath of cool air. He attempts several times to look cool and save face, just to double over again in a fit of unattractive gagging.

"Those things will kill you anyway," Kurt laughs, clapping Sebastian hard on the back. Sebastian nods in agreement, but holds tight to his cigarette, backing out of Kurt's reach when he tries to grab it away.

"How do you like my club?" Kurt leans against the wall and takes another long drag, deciding to let Sebastian fumble with his cigarette by himself.

"It's not really my scene," Sebastian admits, joining Kurt at his spot on the wall, "but it could be."

Kurt blows out a mouthful of smoke into the night air, then turns to look at Sebastian.

"You like being a dog?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian inhales, managing to take a drag and exhale without sounding like he's choking to death.

"I like being your dog."

Kurt shakes his head.

"Don't get attached to me," Kurt advises sternly, but with a flattered half-smile on his lips. "I'm not always so nice."

"That's perfect," Sebastian says, feeling his old, cocky self returning, "because I don't do nice."

Kurt stares at Sebastian with narrow eyelids, quietly smoking his cigarette, lost in thought.

"Look, what I do here…we have strict rules," Kurt explains. "That's why I don't fuck underage subs here. I have to keep my liquor license."

Sebastian nods as if what Kurt said made any sense.

"But, in my private life I'm a bit more lenient." Kurt reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a business card holder, gold metal inlaid with mother of pearl. He flips it open and pulls out a violet colored business card with black embossed lettering.

"Why don't you give me a call," Kurt says, handing the card over. "And maybe we can work something out."

Sebastian takes the card and looks it over, memorizing the phone number quickly in case anything happens to it.

"Too bad I won't get the chance to have you fuck me on that pew," Sebastian chuckles nervously.

Kurt drops his cigarette and grinds it out on the cement with the toe of his boot.

"I have one of those at home."

Kurt winks suggestively and heads back toward the club. Sebastian doesn't want to see him go. He needs to have those eyes on him a while longer, hear his voice one last time before he leaves.

"I'll give you a call. I promise."

Kurt stops mid-step, his stiletto heel clicking loudly on the cement, and spins back around.

"Now, that's something different." Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and stares significantly at Sebastian.

"What?" Sebastian asks, slightly confused.

"Promises," Kurt replies. "Promises must be kept, so they must be sealed."

"H-how do you seal a promise?" Sebastian stutters, captivated by the serious yet playful glimmer in Kurt's eyes. Kurt pushes Sebastian up against the wall with his body, fitting against him, the feeling of Kurt hard and molding against his skin making Sebastian so ready to go back to the paddle room again.

"You seal a promise with a kiss," Kurt whispers.

Kurt winds Sebastian's tie around his finger and tugs, bringing Sebastian's mouth down to meet his, no invitation offered or needed. He presses his mouth against Sebastian's, slotting them together, delicate brushes of his tongue against the seam of Sebastian's lips.

"Oh…" Sebastian gasps when Kurt's tongue finally slips through, caressing Sebastian's tongue tenderly. Sebastian melts against the wall at the first sweep of Kurt's piercing against the roof of his mouth, and he moans as the smooth barbell strokes gently back and forth.

Kurt pins Sebastian back against the wall by his shoulders and pulls away from the kiss with a sly grin at the wrecked look on Sebastian's face. Sebastian tries to hold Kurt against him with hands cradling his hips, but Kurt effortlessly breaks free.

"Now you have to call me." Kurt walks backward toward the fire exit and knocks on the metal door behind him. It opens a crack and Sebastian watches Kurt slip through into the darkness, his perfect smile the last thing Sebastian sees before the door shuts and he's left outside alone once more.

The drive back to Westerville is torture, not because of his sore ass that stings with every bump in the road that his car hits, but because every sting reminds him of Kurt.

It's after four in the morning when he gets back to Dalton, and the campus is dark except for the senior dorm, where the top floor lights are burning bright. Sebastian walks dreamily to his room, replaying the entire night over and over and over, every brush of Kurt's fingers in his hair, every snap of leather on his ass, and that kiss – Sebastian can live on that kiss for the rest of his life if he has to.

A line of his traitorous friends peek their heads out from behind their doors as he passes, but no one talks to him until a guilty-looking Trent emerges from his room, dawdling in the hall, watching Sebastian approach.

"So, Seb?" Trent says casually, a few more Warblers venturing out of their rooms to join in the conversation. "How did it go?"

Sebastian eyes the small group, glaring at each boy one by one, but even as annoyed as he was at the beginning of the night over his best friends ditching him, he can't stop the grin of his face.

"Fuck you bitches," Sebastian says, heading off to his room with the shadow of a limp that makes Jeff snicker into his boyfriend's neck. "My lips are sealed."


	2. A Dalton Boy Looking for Trouble - Pt 1

**A/N:** _The follow-up to 'A Dalton Boy on His Knees'. Rated M. Warning for minor heat play and minor breath play._

Sebastian doesn't call Kurt right away. He waits for days, playing it cool. He doesn't want to seem overeager even though every day that passes burns him up inside. He keeps the violet business card tucked into the corner of his desk blotter where he can look at it when he sits down to do his homework, which usually turns into him gazing out his dorm room window to daydream and recall every blissful moment of being spanked by Kurt. Several times he'll pick up his phone and contemplate - how long is long enough so that he doesn't seem like a desperate schoolboy?

The welts on his ass have faded, but the memory, still crystal clear, colors everything he does day after day until he nearly can't stand being away from Kurt any longer.

It's late Thursday afternoon, after killing it on the lacrosse field, when he decides to make the call, because after practice, sweaty from running, his muscles aching, is when he feels the most confident, the strongest, the most like himself. He sees the time on his cell phone screen and curses. It's later than he realized. The sun has already started to set and he has no idea when Kurt usually leaves to get to the club. He'd rather not have to leave a message.

He has waited so long to talk to the man himself.

Sebastian dials the number, his hands shaking, but he writes it off as over-exertion on the lacrosse field and not the excitement of talking to Kurt again.

Sebastian smiles at Kurt's ring-back song – Marilyn Manson's cover of _I Put a Spell on You_.

He doesn't get too far into the song before a familiar high-pitched voice mutters through the line, "Hello?"

"Hey," Sebastian says too brightly and he immediately wants to bite his own tongue out. "Uh…I don't know if you'll remember me…"

"Sebastian?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian blushes a furious shade of red at the thought that this man would remember him, remember the sound of his voice. Maybe he has been waiting for Sebastian to call.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, dropping his head to his desk. Could he be any more lame than the lame he is acting right now?

"It's about time, preppy," Kurt mumbles. Sebastian imagines Kurt's lips locked around a clove cigarette while he lies down in bed; naked, tattooed and pierced body on display. "I'm not a man who's used to being kept waiting."

"Sorry about that, _master_," Sebastian teases.

The line goes quiet and Sebastian holds his breath, not sure whether or not he just committed some huge sub faux pas.

"It seems like a spanking did nothing to cure you of your little attitude problem," Kurt says, flat and stern but with the subtlest hint of a smile that Sebastian can feel resonating through his voice. "You know, you have quite a smart mouth on you, preppy,"

"I've been told that before," Sebastian continues, eager to see how far Kurt will let this banter go.

"You're just looking for trouble," Kurt says, and this time he chuckles. "We're going to have to fix that."

"How exactly do we _fix_ it?" Sebastian asks without considering the consequences.

"Well, you're going to meet me at the club Friday night at eight o'clock sharp, and you're going to bring a change of clothes."

Sebastian's eyes go wide.

"Why bring a change of clothes?" Sebastian asks, trying to picture what Kurt might do to him that would ruin his clothing.

"Because, preppy, your next lesson in discipline is going to take place at my house…" Sebastian hears Kurt take a deep drag of his cigarette and blow the smoke out slowly before returning to the line, "and you're staying the night."

* * *

Kurt said eight o'clock sharp and Sebastian isn't taking any chances. After the final bell on Friday, he rushes to his room without a word to anyone about his plans and packs his overnight bag. He decides to not change out of his school clothes. He has a feeling that Kurt likes his Dalton uniform. He hits a road block when he can't decide which outfit to bring, so he ends up stuffing three outfits in his bag, rolling his eyes at his own behavior. He catches his reflection in the mirror – his tousled hair, his flushed cheeks, his creased brow - and scoffs. He barely recognizes himself. What is he doing? This is not the way Sebastian Smythe acts. He doesn't drop everything and run when another man snaps his fingers. _Sebastian_ sets the rules. _Sebastian_ calls the shots.

He hears the timer that he set on his phone go off and realizes that if he doesn't leave soon, he might hit traffic. Hitting traffic means being late…and missing his chance with Kurt.

The image his mind conjures of Kurt from when they met – the black stiletto boots (Sebastian swallows, recalling the sensation of the smooth patent leather beneath his tongue), his mesmerizing blue-green eyes, glimpses of pale skin peeking out from beneath his black net shirt – is enough to silence the voice in his head and get him back to packing.

Sebastian doesn't care what he looks like now. He mentally tells himself to shut the fuck up and zippers up his bag.

He leaves Dalton on time and gets to the club half an hour early. He sits in his car and waits, fidgeting in his seat as he watches Kurt from a distance. Kurt is smoking a cigarette and talking to a man that Sebastian can only assume is another dom by the way he's dressed and how casually he acts around Kurt - putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder as they laugh at some shared joke.

Sebastian chews his bottom lip raw as he watches this man - this other dom - whisper in Kurt's ear, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him close. At one point, he takes the cigarette from between Kurt's lips to smoke it, leaving a chaste kiss behind on Kurt's cheek. Sebastian stews in his car seat, gripping the steering wheel in his hands and twisting it as if he's preparing to rip it off its pillar.

Sebastian tells himself that he should be disgusted with himself for acting like such a jealous little bitch. He's never had much respect for the overly possessive type, but then again, he's never been jealous of anyone before. So, for now, if the dog collar fits, he might as well wear it. Sebastian decides to get this show going before he does something embarrassing and disgusts himself even more.

Sebastian walks up to the pair quietly, trying to tone down his usual swagger, knowing that his cockiness won't get him as far here as it might in other bars or with other men. He tries to coax out that new side to his personality that revealed itself for the first time when he spoke to Kurt – the part that would do anything that Kurt told him to, the part that wanted to bend to Kurt's will. He is still struggling to find it when Kurt turns his way and sees him coming.

"There's my beautiful pet," Kurt coos, letting go of his dom friend and putting an arm around Sebastian's waist, "and in his sexy schoolboy uniform, no less." Kurt reaches up and wraps Sebastian's tie around his fingers, letting it slip through the spaces between. "Present, pretty and punctual - exactly the way I like my subs."

Sebastian and the other man stare at each other with the same vulgar interest. The dom standing before Sebastian and Kurt is all sorts of glam fabulous - dressed in tight leather pants and wearing a sheer, barely there black shirt, with a dangerously spiked collar secured around his neck. He has a massive hole in each earlobe, filled with a black wooden plug decorated with a fine-lined lotus flower. His eyes are blue; so blue they're almost white beneath the glowing street lights – not quite as captivating as Kurt's blue-green eyes, but disarming nonetheless, if not all together unnerving. If Sebastian actually believed in monsters and demons, he could probably convince himself that this man is a vampire.

"Preppy, this is Elliot," Kurt says, either unaware of the tension in the air or purposefully ignoring it. "He's my partner in this freaky paradise."

Sebastian offers the man his hand and the man shakes it, squeezing a little tighter than Sebastian thinks necessary, but Sebastian – having participated in one or two pissing contests before in his life – doesn't let it show. He doesn't squeeze back, either. The last thing he needs is for Kurt to find out that he disrespected another dom – not _just_ another dom, but his business partner. That sounds like the sort of infraction that could make Kurt dump him as a sub for good.

Elliot drops Sebastian's hand with the glimmer of a secret smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and Sebastian suspects that he may have been subjected to some sort of test.

He wonders if he passed.

Kurt looks at Sebastian and frowns with disappointment.

"So, where's your bag?" Kurt asks, searching Sebastian over front to back, needing no excuse to ogle Sebastian's body but taking one anyway. "I don't lend out clothes, preppy."

"I'm sorry, master," Sebastian says, this time with his head bowed and without a hint of condescension. "I didn't know if you wanted to leave right away. I left my bag in my car."

Kurt turns to Elliot, his eyebrows raised as if Sebastian's behavior proved some previously debated point. Elliot rolls his eyes, appearing not to concede. Kurt shrugs and turns back to Sebastian.

"No b.d.," Kurt says, taking a final drag of his cigarette and surrendering what is left of the butt to Elliot. "Where are you parked?"

Sebastian turns and points down the street. Kurt lets go of Sebastian's waist and takes a step forward, squinting against the street lights to peer into the dark.

"You're going to have to help me out here," Kurt says. "I see a Fusion, a Charger, and a Porsche, and I know you're not rolling in a Porsche."

When Kurt turns back to Sebastian, Sebastian's hands are shoved in his pockets, his eyes downcast as he smiles sheepishly at his feet.

Kurt chokes out a laugh.

"The Porsche?" Kurt asks, his voice joking and incredulous all at once. "You're eighteen and you're driving a Porsche?"

"Yup," Sebastian says, his cheeks hotter than he would like. He doesn't care how red he gets as long as Kurt keeps smiling at him with that look of awe on his face.

"Change of plans," Kurt says, taking Sebastian's arm and dragging him away, "we're taking your car."

Kurt turns back to say good-bye to Elliot and stops at his friend's disapproving frown.

"Aw, don't be upset, Ells," Kurt coos over his shoulder. "You're still my number one."

Sebastian glances over his shoulder and watches a small smile lift the frown on Elliot's face, but when his eyes shift to look at Sebastian, they are hard and entirely unamused.

Kurt blows Elliot a kiss and tugs Sebastian closer, moving faster toward his car.

"What do you mean by 'number one'?" Sebastian asks, daring to slip a hand over Kurt's where it's curled around his bicep.

Kurt casually rests his head against Sebastian's shoulder, and Sebastian catches his breath.

"Elliot and I have known each other forever," Kurt explains, "and we have this deal that if we get middle-aged and fat with no prospects of love that the two of us are going to get a house together and become crazy old cat men."

Sebastian chuckles lightly. Kurt looks up from under his eyelashes when he feels Sebastian's shoulder shake.

"What?" Kurt draws out the word. "You don't like cats?"

"Uh…no," Sebastian says, caught off-guard. "I like cats just fine."

Sebastian pulls his key fob from his pocket and unlocks the car doors.

"So…what's so funny?" Kurt's tone is light but more demanding now. He leans his back against the car and yanks Sebastian's tie, pulling Sebastian's body against his.

"I…" Sebastian doesn't want to say the thought that crossed his mind, but he doesn't want to lie. It's strange that not lying is his first compulsion. He has no problem lying to anyone else, even his parents when the situation requires it.

"Tell me, preppy," Kurt whispers, pulling the tie tighter, twisting it at the Windsor knot, choking Sebastian just enough to make him dizzy.

It doesn't frighten Sebastian at all. He finds it mildly intoxicating. Sebastian's eyelids flutter shut as the knot tightens again.

"I…find it hard to believe that you'll ever have trouble finding love," Sebastian confesses.

Kurt lets the knot go quickly, and the rush of air to Sebastian's lungs makes him weak at the knees. He falls forward, bracing himself with his hands on the roof of his car, one on either side of Kurt's body, caging him in.

"See?" Kurt asks. "Now, was that so difficult?"

Kurt's voice is just as enticing, just as teasing as it always is, but there's a break to it, as if Sebastian's comment struck a nerve. Sebastian doesn't want to pry. Kurt doesn't seem like the kind of man who parts with his secrets too easily, but Sebastian wants to hear them.

He wants to earn Kurt's trust.

"Don't get mushy on me, preppy," Kurt says, tutting his tongue. He puts his hands on Sebastian's chest and pushes firmly, helping him stand. "We should get going while the night is young. Do you need me to drive?"

That snaps Sebastian from his stupor, and that snarky part of him that he hid away slips back. He sees Kurt's eyes shining up at him, challenging him, his lips hovering so close he can taste the cloves on Kurt's breath.

"You can flog me within an inch of my life, master," Sebastian says, respectfully but with a sly smile, "but no one drives my baby except me."

Kurt's smile takes up most of his face. He reaches up and bites Sebastian's lip sharply, hard enough that it almost bleeds, a small punishment for speaking out of turn. Sebastian swallows the pain…along with a moan.

"I like that, preppy," Kurt whispers, running his tongue across Sebastian's bitten lip. "I like your fiery attitude."

"Do you?" Sebastian asks, taking his chances while he still has Kurt pressed up against his Porsche.

"I do," Kurt admits. "It's going to make it so much more fun dominating you."

Kurt comes closer, so close to kissing Sebastian that Sebastian's whole mouth waters, waiting for that sinful tongue to slip past his lips, craving its metal ornament stroking the roof of his mouth, but Kurt pulls away again, devilish grin disappearing into Sebastian's car. Kurt had taken a step forward to open the car door, and now he is shutting it behind him.

Sebastian takes a moment to mourn the kiss he wanted so badly until he realizes – Kurt is in his car. Kurt is sitting in his car. Kurt is waiting in his car, waiting for Sebastian to drive him to his house and then…

Sebastian can't even imagine, but he doesn't want to wait and daydream any longer.

He scurries indignantly to the driver's side of the car, slowing down as he approaches his door when he sees Kurt through the tinted windows throw his head back and laugh. Sebastian takes one last look at the club, the clusters of doms and subs gathered by the entrance to get in, and that unnerving pair of cold, pale eyes watching him. Sebastian nods solemnly, but Elliot rolls his head on his neck, sticking Kurt's cigarette between his lips. He turns on his heel and makes his way back to the club.

Sebastian opens his door and slips into his seat beside Kurt, who looks blissful reclining in the leather passenger seat and breathing in deep.

"You know," Sebastian says, putting his key in the ignition and firing the engine, "I'm not sure your friend Elliot likes me."

"Oh, he doesn't," Kurt says, running his hands over the leather door panels, letting his fingers drag across the dash, "but don't worry about him. I won't let him hurt you." Kurt flashes a grin Sebastian's way. "Unless you want him to, of course."

"Uh…no." Sebastian puts the car into gear and pulls onto the main road. "I'm all yours."

Somewhere between second gear and third gear, as Sebastian merges onto the highway, he swears he hears Kurt say, "Good."

* * *

Kurt's directions take Sebastian to a quiet, suburban neighborhood only a few miles away from his club. Sebastian turns down a swirling labyrinth of streets, each one identical, lined with cookie cutter houses and perfectly trimmed, green lawns – reminiscent of 1960s era Americana. Kurt points to one of the cookie cutter houses at the end of a cul de sac and Sebastian obediently pulls up front. He isn't sure what exactly he expected when he pictured Kurt's home, but for sure it wasn't this.

"God almighty, I love this car," Kurt murmurs, reaching for the door handle with a sad whimper. Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt's arm to stop him, putting up a finger to indicate 'one minute'. Sebastian leaps out of his side of the car, hurries over to Kurt's, and opens the door for him.

"My, my," Kurt says, affecting a Southern belle accent, putting a hand to his chest and fanning himself with his other, "what a gentleman." Sebastian retreats to the trunk to retrieve his bag and the car cover, with Kurt's laugh following him the whole way.

Kurt watches Sebastian cover the Porsche, pouting when the last inch of shiny black car is concealed completely.

"Pity," Kurt sighs, gesturing toward the walkway with an incline of his head, "if I had a car like that, I think I'd live in it, sleep in it, fuck in it…"

Sebastian nearly misses a step at the thought of Kurt in his lap, naked, writhing, bouncing on his cock in the passenger seat of his Porsche.

He swore when he got the car that he'd never sully it by fucking anyone in it.

Now he can't wait to get the chance.

Kurt stops at the door, key poised at the lock. He turns completely around to face Sebastian.

"When you pass through this door, preppy, you agree to my rules. You submit completely to me. Once our session starts, you don't speak unless you're told."

Sebastian's mouth goes dry – his tongue suddenly too big to make words. He nods after a pause and Kurt continues.

"I won't ask for permission to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you, and I'll assume everything is green unless you say the safe word. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

Kurt looks at Sebastian carefully, examining his face – specifically his eyes – closely.

"Good," Kurt says, happy with Sebastian's non-answer. Apparently his eyes gave Kurt the answer he was looking for.

Kurt unlocks the door and pushes it open leading the way inside.

Sebastian has a last minute vision of what he'll see inside - walls painted black and covered in chains, leather shackles and whips scattered everywhere, maybe even a rack of some sort, Medieval-looking and festooned with spikes. There'll be no real furniture, maybe a few industrial pieces of art, edgy and gritty.

Again, the reality that smacks him in the face is far more devastating than anything he could possibly imagine.

Normal. Everything is normal – almost painfully so, such a contradiction when compared to the exquisite eccentricity that is Kurt. Sebastian stops and stares, spinning in a circle and taking it all in - a plain brown velour-upholstered sofa, a matching La Z Boy recliner beside it, a bland wood coffee table with a glass top, a cream colored carpet to match cream colored walls covered with framed family photos, each one painting a much different image of the man covered in tats and piercings watching Sebastian with particular interest as he quietly evaluates Kurt's life.

"So…" Kurt says, keeping the sentence open-ended and waiting for Sebastian to fill in the blanks.

Sebastian's expression is hysterically shocked. He raises his eyebrow in silent question.

"We haven't started yet. Feel free to talk," Kurt says, leaning over to unzip his boots, "but take off your shoes while you do it. I just had this carpet cleaned."

"It's…uh…" Sebastian drops his bag and takes a last look around, "not what I expected…exactly…"

"Even us sexual deviants have to live in houses, too, you know," Kurt says.

"It's not that." Sebastian uses untying his laces as an excuse to think up a better response than 'it's not what I expected'. He picks up his Oxfords and places them beside Kurt's boots by the front door, aware of Kurt's blue eyes on him. "What I meant was…"

"Do you have a dad, preppy?" Kurt asks, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cloves from his back pocket. He opens the pack and picks a cigarette out. He puts it between his lips and lights it.

"Yeah," Sebastian replies.

"Well, so do I." Kurt takes a long drag from his clove and sighs as he exhales the smoke from between his lips. "He lives in Lima, not too far from here. He likes to come visit, and I like to make him comfortable, you dig? So I keep my shit in my room or in the dungeon downstairs, and I cover the kitchen table."

Sebastian nods, but then he scrunches his nose, confused.

"Kitchen table? Why cover the kitchen table?"

Kurt smiles, beckoning for Sebastian to follow with a curled finger as he walks further into the house.

"You'll see why."

Kurt leads him through a pair of French double-doors into the dining room, and then through another doorway to the kitchen.

The kitchen is rustically decorated, Sebastian notices, like one might find in a cottage in the French countryside, even down to the little rooster touches on the wallpaper and the dish towels. A rooster-shaped decorative cake pan hangs on the wall over the stove, and copper pots and pans dangle from a runner on the ceiling. It reminds Sebastian of all those summers he spent at his grandmother's estate in France.

Kurt walks up to a honey-colored, knotted wood table and smacks his hand down on the hard surface.

"This," he says, bending over to pick up a thick rope already tied to the legs, threading it suggestively between his fingers and tugging on it to test its strength, "is where we will start our first session."

Sebastian looks over the table and the ropes, and gulps so loudly that Kurt's smile goes from a suggestion to a fully realized wolfish grin.

"While you're in my house, you will be naked at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"

Sebastian nods, but he can't take his eyes off the table. For a plain wood table it's strangely imposing.

Kurt takes another inhale off his clove and rounds the table, leaning his hip on the edge and quietly calling Sebastian's focus. It's not too difficult. Even without speaking a word, Kurt is not a man that can easily be ignored.

"Do you like heat, preppy?" Kurt asks.

"I don't know what you mean…"

"Put out your hand."

Sebastian puts out his hand, not knowing what to expect, and Kurt quickly crushes out his cigarette in it. Sebastian takes a sharp breath, his eyes wide. His first instinct is to jump or swat it away, but he trusts Kurt, and bizarrely if that means letting him burn him with his cigarette than he will. To his surprise it's not all that hot. Kurt presses it into an area of skin that's heavily calloused from holding his lacrosse stick, so there's no real burn. There's a sudden flare of intense heat on his skin, but it tingles as it fades, the resulting shimmer over his skin intensely erotic.

Kurt flicks the butt into the trash. He puts his lips up to Sebastian's cupped hand and gently blows the ash away. Then he places a small kiss to the burn and wraps Sebastian's fingers around it.

"Yes," Kurt purrs, "you're a good boy."

From that single press of Kurt's lips to Sebastian's hand, his entire body thirsts to have him – not that he wasn't on the edge of needing to be inside this man's body for the last few days, but this is that new feeling – that feeling of wanting to obey Kurt's every command.

A feeling that only seems to surface at the sound of Kurt's voice and the touch of his lips on Sebastian's skin.

"Now, why don't you be a good pet and go take a shower?" Kurt suggests, but it's not a suggestion. It's an undeniable command. "I want you to clean everywhere…and I _mean_ everywhere."

Kurt takes Sebastian's arm and steers him towards the first door down the hall.

"Everything you need is inside." Kurt shuts the door slowly, eyes locked to Sebastian's as he closes the gap. "And remember to leave your clothes on the hamper. You won't be needing them tonight."

The door clicks shut and Sebastian is alone.


	3. A Dalton Boy Looking for Trouble - Pt 2

**A/N:** _**This is the second half of Kurt dominating Sebastian at his house. (Just an FYI - in the installment after this one, Kurt will be telling Sebastian what he expects from him as a sub, so all of Sebastian's concerns in this chapter will be addressed in the nest chapter.) Warning for anal sex, bondage, rope bondage, fingering.**_

Sebastian stares at the wooden door closed shut in front of him.

Kurt wants him to shower. He ordered him to clean everywhere.

He even emphasized _everywhere_.

Still, Sebastian kind of wishes that Kurt had been more specific with his instructions. He turns around slowly in this pale gold bathroom – so simple and uncluttered, so plain, like the living room – but this room has a soothing effect unlike the others. It is more _Kurt_ than any other room he's seen so far. The walls are sponge-painted, giving the effect of gold clouds instead of flat, boring paint. Scented candles line a wooden shelf on the wall - their charred, black wicks standing higher than the wax, melted almost completely away, each emitting the scent of jasmine. The air is thick with the sweet floral scent. Small mirrors are situated behind them to bounce the light around the room. Beneath the shelf of candles stands a covered bamboo hamper, which is where he is supposed to put his clothes. Sebastian stops at the sink, eying a line-up of products waiting for him – a brand new toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and a box with a suspicious looking red bulb pictured on the front.

Sebastian starts there.

He picks up the box and turns it over in his hands, reading the words printed on the side. The instructions make him do a double-take, and when he reads them over again he finally realizes what Kurt meant about cleaning _everywhere_.

Sebastian has never used an anal douche before. It's hard to maneuver, twice he almost fumbles the red bulb into the toilet, and he gets embarrassed even though he's in the room alone (thank God he doesn't get so flummoxed that he has to ask for help). As long as he remains Kurt's sub, he's sure he'll have to do it again…but it's not an experience he looks forward to repeating.

Sebastian showers thoroughly, but he also tries to be quick about it. He doesn't want to keep Kurt waiting and he's too eager to get back to whatever he has planned. Once or twice Sebastian entertains the thought that if he's in here scrubbing from head to toe, inside and out, what is Kurt doing? There has to be another bathroom – maybe a master bathroom. Is Kurt showering like he is? Covered in soap, sliding his hands over his wet skin, thinking of all the things he's going to do to Sebastian?

Is he…

Sebastian stops there.

Better not to think about that, Sebastian decides.

He uses every product that Kurt left for him. He brushes his teeth, shampoos and conditions his hair, he scrubs every inch of his skin that he can reach. Even though he is meticulous with his hygiene normally, Sebastian thinks that he has probably never been so clean in his entire life.

It feels weird to shower this rigorously. It's not the _being clean_ that feels strange exactly, but the _expectation_ of being this _level_ of clean. There's only one reason why he would need to be _this_ clean…and he can't wait to get to it.

He turns off the water and steps out of the shower into a room that is suspiciously absent of steam considering how hot he cranked up the water temperature. He finds a towel hanging on the back of the door, waiting for him – a towel he doesn't remember seeing when Kurt shut him in there, which means his dom (which is how Sebastian has decided to think of Kurt, kind of as a way to put him in the mood) snuck it in there while he showered. Sebastian picks it up off the hook. It's thick and plush, something Sebastian would probably not pick out for himself but he can appreciate it. It's nothing like Sebastian's taste, because Kurt is nothing like Sebastian.

All those boys at Dalton whose pants he's gotten into, all those boys from that private school in France his parents sent him to, are very much like Sebastian – spoiled, privileged, trust fund babies, with no real responsibilities other than to act superior and mildly rebellious while knowing everyday of their lives that they would eventually go into the family business. They talk the same, live the same, smell the same, fuck the same…

Not Kurt. Kurt is nothing like those boys, and that's why Sebastian wants him so badly.

Sebastian brings the towel to his nose and breathes in deep. It smells like Kurt and not some generic store-bought laundry detergent. It's cloves and jasmine and vanilla and leather. It's striking and unique, like a signature. It's a mark, and it's on him now. Sebastian raises an arm to his nose and takes a sniff. That smell on the towel, that smell of Kurt's skin, that smell in the air, it's on Sebastian, and this is another step in Sebastian's burgeoning understanding of what it means to be a sub.

Kurt isn't treating Sebastian like one of those lemmings that go to his club.

Sebastian belongs to Kurt.

Sebastian is Kurt's alone.

The air dries Sebastian's skin while he stands in the bathroom with the towel pressed to his nose.

From out in the kitchen, Sebastian hears the dull thump, thump, thump of someone hitting wood.

He smiles.

That's his cue.

Sebastian hangs the unused towel back on its hook and rakes his fingers through his hair, slicking it back so that it's neat since there is no comb or any other styling product available for him to use.

And no clothes.

He's not to wear any clothes the entire time he's there.

He looks down the length of his naked, excessively clean body and smiles.

Let the fun begin.

Sebastian opens the bathroom door and peeks down the hall into the kitchen. He's greeted to the sight of Kurt sitting at the wood table, his bare feet propped up on the surface as he leans back in his chair, a new lit cigarette pinched between his lips, his left fist resting on the table. His hair is wet so Sebastian was right, and he swallows, imaging how thoroughly Kurt might have cleaned. He's wearing a tight pair of dark wash denim jeans and a tight black tank top that rises up a bit at his waist, revealing a path of pale, creamy skin.

If Sebastian had his way, he would devour this man, and take his time doing it.

"Finally," Kurt says, pulling on his cigarette and letting the smoke escape his lips while he speaks, "I was afraid you might have drowned."

Sebastian opens his mouth for a comeback, but he remembers Kurt's rules. He doesn't know if this officially counts as the start of a session, but best not to take any chances.

Though the punishment might be fun.

Sebastian walks toward the kitchen, but Kurt doesn't get up. Sebastian stops behind Kurt's chair, waiting to be told what to do. His hands twitch as they hang at his sides, itching to rest on Kurt's shoulders, to massage his neck, to run his fingers through wet, purple-tinted chestnut hair.

"No, no, preppy," Kurt says, taking another drag and blowing the smoke through pursed lips, "I need you in front of me so I can get a good look at you."

Sebastian swallows involuntarily, but if Kurt wants to look, Sebastian will let him look. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

He should tell that to the butterflies duking it out in his stomach because they don't seem to have gotten the memo.

Sebastian steps in front of Kurt, preparing for an inspection, but Kurt doesn't look at him right away. He sucks on what's left of his clove, then leans his head back with his eyes closed and blows a breath of smoke into the air. Sebastian can see his face, his neck, and his shoulders better at this angle. Kurt's face is clean of all his makeup except for a thin line of black beneath his eyes. It's not over the top the way he usually wears it. In fact, it's sensual and appealing, a simple decoration to emphasize a masterpiece. Sebastian has never really liked the new trend of 'guy-liner' but Kurt wears it well, especially in small amounts like this.

Freckles sprinkle across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks, a detail usually hidden by the foundation he wears. All his piercings are still in place, though with smaller, more subtle rings filling in the holes. The flock of blackbirds tattooed on his neck, disappearing down into his shirt, are more vibrant against his skin in this light. Correction – the flock of birds fly up onto his neck from somewhere beneath his shirt, their origin a secret…for now. But Sebastian can see new tattoos he hadn't noticed before – a treble clef and a bass clef intertwined on his neck below his right ear, a star on his left exposed shoulder, a pair of intricately designed Victorian-style sewing shears on his right forearm that had been covered by his bracer before.

Kurt crushes out the butt of his cigarette in an ashtray on the table. When Sebastian's eyes travel back to meet Kurt's, he looks casually amused.

"Do you like what you see?" he asks.

Sebastian takes a step back and averts his eyes, biting his lips together to keep his mouth shut.

"Awww," Kurt coos, sitting up in his seat, "look how hard preppy is trying to be obedient. Such a good boy."

Sebastian wants to preen beneath Kurt's praise, but now Kurt's eyes are examining him, so close to his abs and his half-hard cock that Sebastian has to clamp his teeth down on his tongue so as not to become fully aroused. He remembers some of the talk he heard around the club when he sat at Kurt's feet, how subs were scolded for becoming aroused without permission. He still doesn't know a lot of what's expected of him. He remembers Kurt's rules so far, but are there more? Is there something he should inherently know? Was there a guidebook he should have read or something? It hadn't even dawned on him to Google anything about the BDSM lifestyle while he was playing Mr. Big Shot by biding his time and acting aloof. But one thing he remembers from his time at the club (time that wasn't spent at the receiving end of Kurt's rose flogger) was another conversation a new sub was having with her dom.

It was a conversation about trust, about the sub trusting her dom, and their need for communication.

Sebastian knows that he trusts Kurt. Maybe it's bred from fascination and a little from obsession, but he trusts him.

Sebastian hears the chair Kurt sits in creak as he leans over, and then he feels hands start to feel him up, starting at his ankles. Long fingers walk their way up his calves, and he feels his body shudder.

"Since you've agreed to submit to me, that makes your body mine," Kurt says, speaking inches from Sebastian's skin, "which means I get to do what I want to do…within limits." Kurt's hands wedge between Sebastian's thighs and part his legs wider, traveling up into between. Sebastian looks up to the ceiling, counting the pots and pans while Kurt continues his examination, moving aside his balls and looking for…what? Sebastian hasn't the foggiest idea, and he's not about to ask. The prospects are humiliating to consider. Is Kurt making sure that he's clean? What else could he be doing?

"You have limits and I have limits," Kurt explains, "and I'll discuss those limits with you, but for now, let's work on getting you used to me touching you."

Kurt stands from his chair and his touches become less clinical, though there is still the occasional pinch or pull – a tweak of Sebastian's nipple here, a tug of his hair there. Sebastian stands still with his eyes trained to the floor and yields to it all. Fingertips glide along his muscles, smooth over his skin, weave up and through the damp strands of his hair, brushing and combing it aside and out of Sebastian's face.

"There," Kurt hums appreciatively, "it looks so much better without all that shit you put in it to make it stand up straight."

Sebastian nearly balks – a cry of, "What about you?" ready to pass his lips, but he holds his tongue, even though it's becoming more painful than ever to do so. Sebastian doesn't realize he's shaking with his need to speak until Kurt laughs.

"Good boy," he mutters again, and Sebastian knows he was being baited.

Kurt walks around him. He runs a hand back up into his hair, grabs a fistful, and yanks his head back, with Sebastian fighting the urge to hiss at the sting. Kurt rakes his nails down Sebastian's back until he reaches his hips. Here he pauses. He puts one hand on each hip and squeezes hard.

"I need to have you bent over," Kurt says, putting his hands to Sebastian's shoulders and pushing him forward. Sebastian puts his arms out and braces himself against the wood table, bending over at the waist.

"Nope." Kurt takes a moment to move his ashtray to the kitchen counter, then returns to his sub. "I mean all the way, preppy." He puts a hand between Sebastian's shoulder blades and pushes down, Sebastian leaning forward until his top half lies on the surface, his head resting cheek down on the wood.

"Now, here comes the tricky part," Kurt says, rounding to the leg closest to Sebastian's right arm. "I'm going to tie you up. I'm going to tie your hands behind your back, and your legs to my chairs. Is there anything you need to tell me before we begin?"

Sebastian takes a deep breath, thinking about objecting, but then he shakes his head.

This is what he wants. This is why he's here. This is how he gets to have Kurt.

This is what he's willing to do.

Kurt works quickly, wrapping the rope on the right side of the table to Sebastian's left wrist behind his back, and then moving to the rope on the left side and tying it around his right wrist. Then he ties the ends together. He tugs on the ropes sharply, tightening them around Sebastian's wrists. This time Sebastian does hiss, but Kurt lets it slide.

Kurt circles back around the table to Sebastian's legs, out of Sebastian's line of sight. Sebastian hears the chairs scrape across the floor, feels hands lift his legs one at a time, tying him down from ankle to knee to the back of the chair with his foot flat on the seat. In this way his legs are spread wide with his cock dangling over the edge.

There are no reflective surfaces nearby. He can't see a single piece of himself without craning his head backward like a corkscrew. It's not uncomfortable so much as it's…awkward, and just like that night at the club, he feels exposed, vulnerable. It's not something he's used to.

Kurt runs a hand down Sebastian's back, fingers tracing along the path of his spine, running through the crack of his ass, and back up to his neck. "You remember the safe word right? Nod if you do."

Sebastian nods as best he can, trying to get a glimpse of Kurt, needing to see the expression on his dom's face. Sebastian imagines that he looks pretty ridiculous spread open and tied down. Is this a joke? Is Kurt standing behind him, laughing at him? His fingers fidget uneasily and he tries to readjust his legs.

"You're uncomfortable like this, aren't you?" Kurt says, his voice calm without a hint of teasing. Kurt continues to touch him, massaging his thighs, his hips, his ass, making his whole body ache with need despite his self-consciousness. Sebastian doesn't know if Kurt's question is direct or rhetorical, so he nods again.

"You probably won't believe me when I tell you this, but you look exquisite like this, preppy."

Sebastian doesn't know how to read the tone in Kurt's voice but that doesn't stop him from blushing. He turns his head and rests his forehead on the wood, staring down into the knots and the grains, following the random pattern that dips and spirals in front of his eyes, needing to distract himself to keep the blush from spreading.

"Let me ask you this," Kurt says, stepping up between Sebastian's legs, continuing to touch, to feel, to massage, "You probably do something hoity-toity at that fancy school of yours like play polo, or croquet?"

Sebastian nods, his entire body quivering when Kurt's fingers touch his skin again, this time focusing on his ass, tracing patterns over his sensitive inner thighs, rubbing firmly on the skin beneath his balls. Sebastian shuts his eyes tight, struggling with his body's natural response to writhe with the pleasure of Kurt's touch.

"What do you do, preppy?" Kurt asks in a commanding voice. "Tell me."

"I…mmm…I play lacrosse…m-master," Sebastian manages without tripping up too badly.

"Lacrosse," Kurt repeats, sounding genuinely impressed. "Lacrosse is a difficult game. Lots of running. Lots of…endurance."

Kurt brings a hand down hard on Sebastian's ass, sending ripples over his skin, and every muscle in his body quakes.

Kurt's hands disappear and Sebastian desperately wants to know what he's doing. It's almost torture not to be able to see, but he doesn't try to look back over his shoulder again. _Trust_. He has to remember trust. He trusts Kurt.

But God is he curious as hell.

He hears Kurt move, rustling with something that sounds like fabric, and then a triumphant, "Aha!"

The snap of a flip-top bottle makes Sebastian's fidgeting stop. Sebastian would bet anything the bottle in Kurt's hands is lube. When Kurt's hands return to his body, slick and smooth from the lube, it's not where he expects.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you like this?" Kurt asks, using both hands to massage Sebastian's shoulders, kneading the tension from his muscles, helping him relax piece by piece as he works his way down Sebastian's back. "I see your strong muscles, all the hard work you put into your body, and it's such a tremendous turn on."

Kurt rounds the table so that he can face Sebastian, so that Sebastian can catch a glimpse of the bulge growing in Kurt's skin-tight jeans.

"Do you see that, preppy?" Kurt asks, his voice a delicious whisper in Sebastian's ears. Sebastian would nod in response, but he's too stunned by the beauty that is Kurt's growing erection inches from his face. Kurt grabs a fistful of Sebastian's hair and steps closer, grinding his cock against Sebastian's cheek. "Do you feel that?" Kurt's voice cracks a little, just enough to send sparks surging all throughout Sebastian's body. "That's you, preppy. You and your gorgeous body tied to my table do that to me."

Sebastian takes a deep breath, seeking out the scent of this body crushed so close to his skin, discovering hints of cloves and denim and sweet vanilla. Kurt ruts against Sebastian's face, so close to his mouth that Sebastian places open-mouth kisses to his hip in an effort to seek out that elusive prize beckoning him to put his mouth around it.

"Do you want that?" Kurt teases, bringing his cock closer, watching Sebastian strain to reach it, whimpering when his teeth barely scrape Kurt's jeans. "I want you to have it, preppy. I do, but not like this…not yet."

Kurt releases his grip on Sebastian's hair and walks away. Sebastian cools his temper, but knowing that Kurt is hard because of him is maddening. He tugs at the ropes around his wrist one last time, but it's a fruitless effort. The more he wrestles with the ropes, the tighter they become until he can feel them cut into his skin, but the pain is no longer a deterrent. He wants to get closer to his goal.

He hears Kurt's muffled footsteps stop behind him once again, and Kurt chuckles, dark and thick, low in his throat, a rumble of his own need and carefully caged lust – better caged than Sebastian, who is riled up and ready to rip the wood table in two.

"I think that my little boy is ready to be milked," Kurt says, "but I can't get started until he's very, very quiet and very, very still."

It takes a moment for Sebastian to register that Kurt is talking about him, but once he does, he lies still and holds his breath to keep from making a sound.

But, milking?

"That's a good boy…"

Sebastian hears another flick of the unseen bottle, hears a squish as Kurt squeezes the thin liquid into his hands. Sebastian's body tenses, waiting for whatever is going to happen to happen already.

Kurt wraps his long, strong fingers around Sebastian's hard cock and starts to move his hand slowly. With his other hand, he fondles his balls, twisting slowly.

Sebastian's whole body is at war. It wants to move, to squirm, to arch with pleasure, but he can't. He's forbidden. He lets that command ground him and tries not to move while inside he's screaming to explode.

His cock twitches in Kurt's hand and Kurt tuts.

"Nope," Kurt says, moving his slick hand slower, "no cumming till I say so, preppy. I need you to focus on staying quiet and keeping still."

Kurt should have asked him to stop breathing and blinking – it would have been a less impossible task to accomplish.

When Kurt first mentioned milking Sebastian, Sebastian had absolutely no idea what Kurt could have meant, and the pictures it evoked were both ridiculous and anatomically impossible. Had Sebastian only known about this, he would have been begging for it from the first moment he ever let another boy lay a hand on him.

Kurt knows just how to touch him, how much pressure, just where to twist. Unable to move, Sebastian feels himself dissolve into the tabletop. Kurt edges him closer and closer until, without meaning to, he moans.

"Oh, God…"

The second the words slip past Sebastian's lips, he freezes. Kurt stops what he's doing and pulls away from the table

"I feel like ice-cream, preppy. Would you like some?"

Sebastian leans his forehead onto the tabletop, hiding his face and panting against the wood. He's so close, so close to cumming, so close that anything will push him to the brink.

Kurt comes back with a pint of ice-cream and a spoon.

"You don't have any nut allergies, do you?" Kurt asks, casually pulling up a chair and taking the top off the ice-cream. "Because Pecan Praline Salted Caramel is my fave, so it's the only flavor I have in the house."

Kurt looks at Sebastian and waits patiently for his sub to turn his head and look at him, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from being bitten.

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

"Nuts?" he says. "You allergic?"

Sebastian looks aghast by the question, but he shakes his head.

"Perfect!" Kurt rakes his spoon across the top of the ice-cream, "because this stuff is way too good not to share."

Sebastian watches Kurt take the first spoonful for himself, slipping it past his lips and sucking it off the spoon.

"Mmm," he hums, closing his eyes as he pulls the spoon out, licked completely clean. "That's sooo good."

Kurt spoons up some more, but this time he offers it to Sebastian. Sebastian parts his lips slowly, brow furrowed, puzzled by Kurt's complete change in demeanor. Kurt feeds him the ice-cream, waiting with the spoon in Sebastian's mouth until he's satisfied that Sebastian must have eaten it all, and then pulls the spoon away.

The flavor of the ice-cream doesn't completely hit Sebastian right away, but when it does he realizes that Kurt was absolutely correct.

This is possibly the greatest ice-cream in existence.

His temporary state of need and aching desire forgotten for the moment, he moans softly around the mouthful melting on his tongue.

"I know, right?" Kurt asks, spooning up another bite for himself.

Kurt feeds Sebastian, back and forth, spoonful after spoonful, with no other conversation passing between them except the occasional mumble of appreciation. The pint of ice-cream is nearly gone when Kurt's wicked grin finally returns.

"There, there," Kurt says, putting the lid back on the container. "I think that's enough of a break for now, don't you? I wouldn't want you to get sick."

Kurt stands and puts the ice-cream back in the freezer. Sebastian can hear him pad across the floor, and when he opens and closes the freezer door. Kurt stays out of his sight and is back behind Sebastian before he realizes it.

"Now we get to start at the beginning," Kurt says, opening the bottle of lube and squirting more in his hands. "And maybe my little pet has learned to stay still and keep his mouth shut?"

It's a question, but Sebastian doesn't dare answer it. His erection has deflated a bit, but the second Kurt's hands, carrying the chill of the ice-cream, wrap back around his cock, his hard-on returns with a vengeance. Sebastian grits his teeth, grinding them together in his effort not to move.

"That's better," Kurt coos, his hand moving slowly, his other hand fondling, both moving alternately. "I like having you here to play with. I like how hard you're trying to stay still. I need to find a way to reward you for all of your obedience."

Sebastian is sure that means Kurt will let him cum. He's positive of it. How much longer can he possibly go? He's never done anything like this before, never been teased so mercilessly, and as much as he wants it to continue, he's not sure that he can last as long as Kurt thinks he will.

Kurt's hands disappear.

He hears the sound of more lube being squeezed from the bottle.

Sebastian, lying bound to the table, has become a single, coiled spring ready to explode and shoot across the room at the slightest touch.

Kurt's slick hands return, roughly kneading the skin of Sebastian's ass. A single finger runs up and down along his crack, brushing over his entrance, and Sebastian's wrists twist, tightening the ropes.

"You have such a beautiful hole," Kurt comments. "I bet you are so tight, aren't you?"

His hand ghosts over Sebastian's cock - close enough so that he can feel Kurt's heat, but not the friction from his skin.

"God, you're so close," Kurt says, moaning as if he can feel Sebastian from the inside, the heat curling in his stomach, the tension in his legs. "I could just touch you until you came."

Kurt grabs Sebastian's hips and pulls him flush against his hard cock straining in his jeans.

"I want this," Kurt growls, bringing his hand down on Sebastian's ass, leaving a bright red handprint. Sebastian fights to keep still and not pull on the ropes that bind him to the table, "so I'm going to take it…"

Sebastian hears the sound of Kurt unzipping his pants, quickly, impatiently, and every inch of his exposed skin flushes with pure heat.

"I'm going to take it," Kurt continues, sucking a finger into his mouth and then brushing it over Sebastian's entrance, "and you're going to let me."

Sebastian sucks in a breath.

Sebastian fucked, he didn't get fucked. He let a boy do that to him once - a boy he was stupid enough to believe he was in love with. Sebastian swore from the day he caught that boy cheating on him with a girl that he would never fall into that trap again.

But all that aside, he has never wanted a cock in his ass so much in his life.

Then there's the thought of being entered that suddenly strikes him like a hammer to the brain. Sebastian knows himself. He knows how he behaves when he enters a new ass…and he's not always gentle about it. Kurt's a dom. His world is different. Power, control – these words have different meanings and some of those definitions go hand-in-hand with pain. Sebastian visualizes Kurt slamming into him while he tries to hold back his screams, and a cold wave of panic takes hold.

Sebastian's body trembles while Kurt's finger circles his entrance.

"You're shaking," Kurt says. "My beautiful alpha male isn't nervous, is he?"

The safe word hangs off the tip of Sebastian's tongue – _butterfly_. All he has to do is give it voice and let it take flight. He can hear himself saying it over and over in his head - _Butterfly! Butterfly!_

Kurt's hand - the hand not teasing Sebastian - starts massaging the small of Sebastian's back.

"Shhh," Kurt says, "I promise, preppy, I'm not going to hurt you. I'll take it really easy."

His finger slips inside, breaching past the tight ring of muscle that's been tensing with the thought of Kurt fucking him, and Sebastian sees stars.

Not bad stars. Not the kind of stars that accompany tremendous agony.

These stars are bright and shimmer with every pass of Kurt's finger. Kurt moves in and out of his body slowly and Sebastian melts.

"That's my boy," Kurt hums, deftly slipping in another finger. It stings slightly, no more than the burn on his hand from the clove cigarette. Sebastian finds himself chasing Kurt's fingers, pushing back to follow them as they leave his body. "You're so anxious. You want me to fill you up, don't you?"

Sebastian doesn't answer, doesn't whimper, and Kurt continues, speaking into the silence.

"I know you do, ever since I had you bent over the pew at my club. I could tell you wanted me, and I don't mind admitting I wanted you, too. Your gorgeous ass glowing red from being spanked…"

Kurt's voice wavers, his fingers quickening their pace in and out, in and out, in and out.

Then the fingers disappear and there's more rustling – then a tear.

Sebastian has opened plenty of condom wrappers. He knows the telltale sound of one being torn open.

Something blunt and large pushes against his ass, and he bites his lip.

_Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly, butterfly…_

The urge to say it dims with every touch of Kurt's cock and his fingers, with the way he works his hole open slowly, how he gently pushes in, an inch at a time, pulling back out and then sliding back in. There's no need to rush, no power play.

Kurt's not going to hurt him.

Kurt already seems to know how to read the signals of Sebastian's body, stopping when Sebastian's legs tense up, when his back arches or his wrists pull tight on the ropes. He shushes and massages, murmurs lightly, "Good boy…good boy…" until he enters Sebastian completely, and stops to admire the view of their skin flush together, of his cock deep in Sebastian's ass, of the beautiful boy tied to his table, the one he's dying to give pleasure to.

"There, preppy," he mumbles with a sigh, "how does that feel?"

Speechless, Sebastian tries to come up with something, anything, that sounds even mildly intelligent, but he's not sure there's enough blood in his brain available to make that happen. He'll settle for something remotely coherent, but he can't seem to come up with that either.

"It's alright," Kurt says, starting with small, controlled thrusts, "we have all night. Take your time."

Sebastian realizes that Kurt is willing to do this until Sebastian comes up with an answer, which would be fine, but it's not enough. It's nowhere near enough. He wants more. He decides to open his mouth and say the first thing that enters his mind.

"I…oh, God…I…"

He fails incredibly.

Kurt laughs, pulling out further and then pushing back in harder.

"Try again," he says.

"Uh…I…fuck…"

Kurt continues with the shallow movements and God, they feel so good, so intense and relaxing at the same time - why can't Sebastian just say it? Every slight snap of Kurt's hips siphons away all of Sebastian's rational thinking until every word he knows is stolen from his lips, rendering his expensive education utterly useless.

"Why don't we start out small," Kurt says, pulling out almost to his limit and pushing back in with one, long, smooth movement, "does this feel good, preppy?"

A question. An easy question. This he can answer.

"Yes, master," Sebastian moans and Kurt chuckles again.

"Do you want me to continue?" Kurt says, pushing harder and this time, finding something hidden, something new that makes Sebastian's mind reel with a rush of sensations he's never experienced before. It makes his skin tingle and his cock ache. It makes him restless and eager to move.

"Yes, master," he whimpers, rolling his wrists in their ropes, his legs shaking so hard the chairs rattle against the floor.

"Did you like that?" Kurt says quietly, and Sebastian can tell Kurt is fighting to hold himself together, maybe as much as Sebastian is. He pulls out and pushes back in, hitting that same spot again, making Sebastian's toes curl.

"Yes, master," Sebastian whimpers louder this time.

"Should I keep doing that?" Kurt doesn't wait for an answer. He assaults that same spot over and over, and this time Sebastian can't help struggling against the ropes, unable to stay still any longer.

"Yes, master," Sebastian mumbles, trying to push back against Kurt's hips, but he has pulled the ropes to their farthest point.

"Sebastian…" Kurt murmurs through trembling lips, "oh, Sebastian…talk to me, Sebastian…_please_…"

"Y-yes…master…"

The sound of Kurt moaning is one thing, the sound of him saying _please_ is another, but Sebastian's name on Kurt's lips is his unexpected weakness. It takes him from barely holding on to a state of extreme urgency. He's going to cum. He has to. His body can't contain itself, no matter what he wants or what Kurt commands. He's fighting a losing battle, and Kurt's next words make it insurmountably worse.

"Kurt," his dom chokes out. "Call me Kurt."

"K-Kurt…" Sebastian is almost reluctant to say it. It doesn't seem right, but it's what Kurt wants and the reaction is immediate.

Kurt pounds into Sebastian faster at the sound of his name.

"Kurt!" Sebastian whines, feeling heat warp through his body over and over again. "Oh, God, Kurt!"

"Do you want to cum, preppy?" Kurt asks. It's a question, not a taunt. Kurt's not looking to prolong Sebastian's agony any longer. He's looking to relieve his own.

"Yes, Kurt," Sebastian says, hoping he's still allowed, for a little while longer, to call him that. "Please, Kurt."

Kurt's fingers wrap around Sebastian's cock again and he knows he's done. As much as he tries, he has no control. He's reached that point where his body doesn't give a flying fuck what he wants, it's just going to do. He cums hard, even as he strains to bide his orgasm. There's nothing in the world that can stop it now.

"Good boy," Kurt mutters over and over, "good boy…good boy…"

Kurt pulls in close, driving himself deep into Sebastian's body, his hips flush against Sebastian's ass, letting his convulsing body drive itself into him over and over, relinquishing control. Kurt grunts and groans - Sebastian feels the vibrations travel from Kurt's body to his. Sebastian shakes, his teeth chattering, and he feels weak.

He's not sure if he'll be able to make his legs work after this.

"Oh, Sebastian," Kurt moans as he drops down over Sebastian's back. "Dear Lord, your body is so tight…so amazing."

Sebastian smiles but doesn't say a word. It's not in him to be cocky at this moment, bathing in Kurt's afterglow, when normally he would say something obnoxious.

Sebastian doesn't want to kill the mood.

"Well," Kurt laughs against Sebastian's shoulder, "do you think you can walk, preppy, or should we sleep here all night?"

"I…I don't…" Sebastian exhales quickly, finding it as hard, if not harder, to put together a coherent sentence with Kurt pressed against him as it was with Kurt pounding into him.

"That was a rhetorical question," Kurt says, placing a kiss to Sebastian's shoulder blade and pushing off his body. "I'm pretty sure you can't walk. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed."

Sebastian hears Kurt take off the condom and toss it away, and when he returns he carefully unties the ropes – his wrists first, one at a time, rubbing down Sebastian's arms to get the blood flowing again. His legs receive a similar treatment - each one unwrapped and massaged, then placed flat on the floor so Sebastian can find his balance. Sebastian tries to stand but Kurt puts a hand to his shoulder – not pushing him down, but still keeping him in place.

"Stay here a moment. Let the blood circulate. I'll be right back."

Kurt shuffles off and this time Sebastian turns his head and watches Kurt make his way to the bathroom. At some point he must have taken off his shirt and kicked off his jeans because he saunters down the hallway gloriously naked, and again Sebastian becomes speechless. Kurt looks so comfortable in his skin, and he has every right to. This dom is trim and muscular, obviously investing quite a bit of time and effort into keeping himself fit.

Now Sebastian can see where the flock of blackbirds comes from. They originate from a massive tree tattoo. Its roots extend across his hips and the trunk grows almost completely up the length of Kurt's spine, with the blackbirds flying up from the branches in a mass exodus. On the back of Kurt's neck, right at the nape, is a symbol that Sebastian can't see clear enough to identify. Apart from those, there are rose vines growing down the backs of both his legs, so well-drawn that they almost look real - from the soft, curling petals and twining stems, to the sharp thorns.

Insanely long and sharp looking thorns.

Another piece of the puzzle that is Kurt.

Sebastian turns his head when he hears Kurt return, not sure if his dom would appreciate him staring. He feels warm water trickle over his skin and a wet wash cloth wiping him down.

"There you are," Kurt says, following up with a dry wash cloth afterward. "Now I don't think you'll stain my satin sheets."

Kurt helps Sebastian stand, tugging him up by his arms, draping one of Sebastian's arms across his shoulders. Kurt helps Sebastian limp along. Sebastian keeps his head bowed, not that he has much of a choice. His neck seems done with the idea of supporting his head.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" Kurt asks as they approach the first door.

Sebastian shakes his head and they trundle past together.

There's another door to their left and two on their right, but Kurt leads Sebastian to the last door at the far end of the hallway. He turns the knob and pushes it open, leading Sebastian inside.

Sebastian's eyes lift enough to see into the dimly lit room.

This is definitely more like what Sebastian originally had in mind.

This room seems to be right out of Kurt's club – dark wood floors, dark wood furniture, violet painted walls, heavy velvet black-out curtains covering the windows, abstract framed art hanging on the walls, and a multitude of whips/cuffs/toys laid out on every conceivable surface. In the center of the room sits a large, four-poster bed with violet sheets and a matching comforter painstakingly embroidered with beads in an intricate Celtic pattern.

Kurt pulls the comforter back and sits Sebastian on the bed, helping him swing his still quaking legs up onto the mattress. He turns to a dresser beside the bed and opens the top drawer, rummaging through the contents and pulling out a small bottle – a gold bottle with the word _Dior_ written across the side. He shows the bottle to Sebastian.

"This will help those burn marks on your wrists," Kurt explains, reaching out and taking Sebastian's left hand first. Sebastian watches Kurt tend to his wounds, his touch soft and soothing, such a stark contrast to the man who fucked him on his kitchen table moments before, a man covered in thorns but also roses and musical symbols and blackbirds trying to break free. Kurt treats both wrists and puts the bottle back in its hiding place. He pulls out what looks like a silk scarf and starts wrapping it around Sebastian's wrists, tying the two together.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow and Kurt laughs.

"I have a rule," Kurt says simply, "no one unbound in my bed."

When Sebastian seamlessly raises the other eyebrow, Kurt laughs louder.

"And believe it or not, covering the burns will help them heal faster with that lotion on them."

Sebastian is too tired to argue. He's too tired to shake his head. He's too tired to do much of anything but watch Kurt. There are other tattoos on his chest but Sebastian doesn't take the time to admire them. He's too focused on Kurt's face as Kurt turns his eyes to Sebastian lying in his bed. Kurt's blue eyes travel up Sebastian's body, taking his time, studying him, memorizing him, trying to decide if he likes him this way. Kurt's brow furrows. His eyes become distant, as if he's replaying a scene in his head. One moment he looks vaguely angry, and another moment his lips curl at the corner.

He sits up, apparently content with his decision.

"Most of my personal subs, when I have one, sleep on the floor by the bed when they've been good little doggies…" He puts a hand to Sebastian's cheek and trails it down his face, tracing a path over muscles and skin, skimming over his neck and down his chest, stopping above his heart, "but I kind of like you the way you are."

Kurt covers him with the sheet on his bed, tucking him in carefully, taking more time than the task needs. Then he lies down beside Sebastian and rests his head on his chest, humming quietly as he drifts almost immediately off to sleep.

There Sebastian lays, exhausted, sated, in this surreal place with this enigma of a man sleeping beside him. Sleeping with his wrists bound might be uncomfortable, but it's worth it to stay on the bed with Kurt's head on his chest, curled up asleep and purring like a contented cat.


	4. A Dalton Boy with a Necktie Fetish

**A/N:** _This was written for tumblr user therewasagirlwhowantedtofly prompted a one-shot with breathplay. I felt that it fit well in my Dalton Boy series. So, this puts the story a little out of order, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Warning for bondage, breathplay, age gap, sort of underage drinking, anal sex, and destruction of a Dalton uniform._

Sebastian watches Kurt wrap his lips around the mouth of the bottle in his grasp, the glowing green liquid flowing into his mouth. A tiny river of it escapes the seal of his lips around the bottle and runs down the side of his mouth, curling around his chin and dripping down his neck.

Sebastian runs his tongue over his own dry lips, longing to lick it up.

Kurt removes the bottle from his mouth and sighs, wiping up the liquid with the back of his hand.

Sebastian sees his opportunity disappear and deflates into the seat beneath him.

"I…I can't believe you're torturing me like this," Sebastian says, his voice shaking when Kurt fixes him with both shining blue eyes. He responds to Sebastian's complaints by pouring a stream of the cool liquid down Sebastian's bare chest and slowly licking it up with the tip of his tongue.

Fifteen minutes after they had arrived at Kurt's club, done the rounds with the other doms and said hello to Elliot, Kurt had locked them in his office, forced Sebastian into a high-backed Victorian style wing chair by his desk, and cuffed his wrists behind his back. Kurt tore Sebastian's uniform shirt open, popping every last button, pulling it wide open to leave his chest bare. (This shirt was Kurt's fifth victim this month, so Sebastian had taken the liberty of ordering three dozen more. Far be it for Sebastian to say no to his dom, even if it meant destroying every last uniform he had in his closet.) Kurt left Sebastian's necktie on, turning it around on his neck so that the tail of it draped over Sebastian's shoulder.

Even though they are in Kurt's club, this isn't the same as their other _sessions_. This is for the two of them, but on a different level. For as strict a dom as Kurt usually is, right now he is being uncharacteristically lenient.

It's almost like their version of a _normal_ date with the clear understanding that Kurt is entirely in charge.

Kurt had stripped off his shirt for Sebastian, letting his sub watch with hungry eyes as he exposed his toned chest and all of his glorious tattoos. He perched onto Sebastian's lap, opened the bottle of absinthe, and proceeded to drink down every last drop.

"Can't I have just a sip?" Sebastian begs in a very un-_Sebastian Smythe_ manner.

"You know the rules about minors drinking in my club," Kurt says, raising the bottle back to his lips with a wicked grin. "Can't do it." Kurt chuckles darkly. "It's a shame, too, because Elliot only buys the good stuff." Kurt takes a long drag off the bottle with Sebastian staring at the long line of his neck as he drinks, watching his throat work the liquid down his throat. "I think it's banned in fourteen countries." Kurt takes another long swig. He leans back too far and teeters on Sebastian's lap, giggling when he pulls himself up.

"Wow," he says, rolling his head on his neck. "I think I'm just about flying."

"Well, I wish I was flying with you," Sebastian says. He watches his dom drink, his green eyes swelling with jealousy. Kurt cares little for Sebastian's jealousy. It's Sebastian's need that he craves, and his need is always there when he trains those sinful green eyes on Kurt's face and body.

For a boy who never thought he would willingly belong to anyone, Sebastian sure does like being owned.

Sebastian's need for Kurt is raw and exciting and it feeds Kurt's ego to no end.

Kurt chews on this thought as he looks at his sub beneath him, eager to play with this gorgeous boy.

"I can think of a way to get you flying," Kurt says, leaning over and setting the bottle down on the floor. He scoots off of Sebastian's lap and stands before him. He starts pulling off his boots, taking his time to strip for his bound sub. "Do you trust me, preppy?"

"Yes," Sebastian says without a second's hesitation. His answer makes the grin on Kurt's face grow wide. "More than I should, probably."

Kurt laughs, unzipping his jeans and peeling them down his legs.

Kurt doesn't seem to mind stripping naked anywhere – not that he had any reason to be self-conscious. Kurt has an incredible body and he knows it. He knows Sebastian likes to look at him. It's especially delicious to feel Sebastian's eyes on his skin when Sebastian is tied up - when Sebastian can't quench his desire for the touch of his fingertips sliding over Kurt's smooth skin, tracing Kurt's tattoos one at a time, toying with his nipples or threading through the violet locks in his hair.

Sebastian wants Kurt – every second they're together and pretty much every minute that they're apart. He wants Kurt's body. He needs Kurt's dominance. He doesn't know why, and if he thinks about it too hard sometimes it infuriates him.

So Sebastian doesn't think about it at all.

He simply submits whenever Kurt lays eyes on him.

Kurt is more than ready for him, his cock incredibly hard and flushed, aching where it stands between Kurt's muscular legs.

"Now this is what we're going to do, preppy," Kurt says, bending over his sub and working at the zipper and button to Sebastian's uniform pants. "I'm going to sit in your lap and have my way with you, and we're going to have a little fun with that kinky necktie of yours."

Sebastian's eyebrows shoot straight up as Kurt frees his cock from his pants, not moving him an inch to pull his slacks down because (as Kurt has said many times before) Sebastian's cock is the only part he needs.

"You know, all you prep school boys are bred to be subs," Kurt continues without any other explanation, "with these uptight uniforms and your stringent school schedules, all of you jumping like obedient little dogs at the sound of a bell…"

Kurt climbs nimbly into Sebastian's lap, reaching behind his sub to his desk for a condom and a bottle of lube.

"I like my doggy," Kurt says with a giddy laugh, freeing the condom from its foil packet and swiftly rolling it over Sebastian's cock. "So obedient, so ready for me…" He tosses the empty foil square into the trash and flips open the bottle. Sebastian watches Kurt squeeze a generous dollop of lube into the palm of his hand. Kurt flips the lid shut and tosses the bottle back on his desk. He warms the lube between his hands before slathering it over the length of Sebastian's erection. Sebastian fights the urge to move his hips up to meet his dom's hands, sure that Kurt will put a full stop to whatever he has planned if he does.

Kurt loves to introduce new ways of torturing Sebastian, and Sebastian has started to love Kurt's surprises.

Kurt positions himself expertly above Sebastian's cock, lowering himself daintily over Sebastian's erection while he explains his plan, eyes glowing down at Sebastian with inebriation.

"I'm going to fuck you," Kurt says in that no-nonsense dom tone that makes Sebastian's toes curl – the one that leaves no room for argument, "and while I do, I'm going to cut off your air supply bit…by…bit." Kurt curls a finger around the tail of Sebastian's tie, pulling it back over his shoulder and straightening it over his bare chest.

Sebastian swallows hard.

"Master?" he asks, recognizing the switch from playful torment to domination in the tone of Kurt's voice and adjusting accordingly.

"Yes, preppy?" Kurt leans in close, nibbling along the contours of Sebastian's mouth.

"Don't people…die from doing that?"

Kurt sits back and scowls.

"Yeah, if you're an idiot doing it by yourself and you accidentally hang yourself in your closet with your belt or some such shit." Suddenly, Kurt's eyes flare with unexpected anger. "Which is why you never, ever do this alone," Kurt says, jabbing a finger into Sebastian's chest hard enough to make him flinch. "Not while you're jerking off, not without me. I forbid it. Do you understand?"

Kurt's conviction steals every word from Sebastian's lips and he nods.

"Say it," Kurt says, digging his nails into the skin of Sebastian's chest to make himself understood. "Tell me that you understand. I need to hear you say it."

"I understand, master," Sebastian says, keeping his voice calm even with the pain of Kurt's nails raking into his skin.

Kurt sinks his body completely over Sebastian's cock and sighs, retracting his nails and fiddling with Sebastian's tie again.

"Good," Kurt says, returning to his mask of practiced control. "I'm glad you understand." Kurt tightens the Windsor knot on Sebastian's tie, inching it up to his neck. "We're going to go slow," Kurt says, sliding his tongue across Sebastian's lips, "and I'll ask you how you're holding up along the way, but if you need me to stop…" He leans behind Sebastian and grabs something off his desk. He sits back up and presses a small, round device into Sebastian's hand. It's a smooth disk with a button that Sebastian can feel with his thumb. Sebastian looks into Kurt's eyes and raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Give it a go," Kurt says, motioning with his chin over Sebastian's shoulder.

Sebastian finds the button with his thumb and gives it a tentative press. He doesn't have to press hard to make the small disk buzz loudly in his hand. Kurt laughs at Sebastian's jolt of surprise.

"I think that'll get my attention," Kurt says, returning to the kiss he had abandoned seconds before. "Don't you?"

Sebastian nods as Kurt's lips meet his. In this position, Sebastian can feel all of Kurt press against him – the warm skin of his chest against his own, Kurt's ass resting on his thighs, and his cock, hard and leaking, bobbing against Sebastian's stomach. Sebastian happily surrenders to Kurt. He can't move his hands or his wrists, can barely move his body, but he is more than willing to acquiesce to sex for the rest of his life just this way as long as it's with his dom – as long as it's with Kurt.

Oh yeah, this man owns him, and Sebastian can't find a single reason in the world to mind.

Kurt pushes the knot of Sebastian's tie up to his Adam's Apple, tightening the tie around his neck until Sebastian gasps. Kurt can feel Sebastian's throat brace against the push of the knot trying to constrict his airway, but Kurt doesn't force it.

"Relax, preppy," Kurt whispers in Sebastian's ear, "give in, and it'll feel really good."

Sebastian swallows as best he can and nods once, melting into the chair, trying to will the tension in his muscles to fade away. Kurt pushes harder. Sebastian can feel a small thread of panic rise up within him, but then Kurt's body begins to move and any anxiety Sebastian has over the idea of being choked dissolves beneath the smooth snap of Kurt's hips.

The knot tightens, and Sebastian feels everything change as it becomes harder to breath – the blind, dazzling euphoria of being disconnected from his body. Lights flash behind his eyes as his vision darkens and the beautiful face of his dom is replaced with a sea of floating stars.

"Okay," Kurt says, slowing the movement of his hips and carefully releasing the knot pressed against Sebastian's neck. Sebastian feels air start to move into his lungs again and his vision clears, his head throbbing and spinning. He whimpers as his body crashes back to earth. "Are you still with me, preppy?"

"Yes," Sebastian replies, his voice rough.

"Do you want me to do that again?" Kurt asks with the shadow of a laugh in his voice.

"Yes, master," Sebastian says, knowing that remembering to say _master_ will get him whatever he wants.

Kurt captures Sebastian's lips in a kiss that's soft as he slides their lips together and raw in the way that Kurt bites down on Sebastian's skin. They start out as gentle nibbles, but soon Kurt bites down hard. He moves again - up and down, up and down - with no break in between for Sebastian to breathe – not that he can now that Kurt is tightening the tie again, pushing the knot further until Kurt can hear Sebastian whine, can feel his legs shake.

The euphoria returns along with the spinning, and the lights that explode like fireworks the longer Kurt forces him to hold his breathe. Sebastian feels the knot slip. He inhales a single breath, and the entire world shifts, spinning faster, tilting left and right. It feels like falling from a tremendous height with no fear of dying. He would laugh if he could.

"Okay," Kurt says again, slowing his hips and releasing the knot, not as much as before, but enough for Sebastian to catch a small breath so he doesn't pass out. "You still haven't pressed the magic button," Kurt says, sneaking his finger between Sebastian's neck and his tie, keeping the pressure on. "Are we good to keep going? I can feel your body telling me you want to cum. Is that true, preppy? Do you want to cum?"

Sebastian's head lolls back and forth and he giggles, the sound uncontrollable and manic as it pierces the fog of his hearing, blocked by the sound of blood rushing through his head.

Kurt laughs along with him, watching his sub wallow in his loopy haze.

"Is that a yes, preppy?" Kurt says, cupping Sebastian's chin in his hand and trying to steal back his attention.

"Yes, master," Sebastian says, peering up to where Kurt's face has gone double, both images of him trying to snap back together into a single picture. "Yes, I want to cum."

"Alright, preppy," Kurt says with another chuckle. "Do you have your button?"

Sebastian presses the button and the sharp sound echoes in the room. Sebastian dissolves into a fit of giggles when Kurt jumps.

"Yup," Sebastian says, popping the _p_.

Kurt shakes his head but he's slightly desperate himself, dying to see Sebastian cum beneath him, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, gasping for air in that way that Kurt knows will make his orgasm feel incredible when it hits.

Kurt is less gentle this time, pushing the knot up to Sebastian's neck and putting more strength behind it, moving his hips up and down faster, slamming his ass down on Sebastian's thighs harder. Sebastian arches his back and his eyelids flutter shut, his face turning red with his effort to breathe as Kurt fucks him, but the smile on his face is undeniable.

He feels Kurt everywhere. Everywhere Kurt touches connects inside his body. His ass is hot and tight around Sebastian's cock, and his fingertips brushing Sebastian's neck send sparks sizzling over his skin. He feels his mind disintegrate. Every thought becomes irrational, unimportant nonsense. Words become unintelligible. His mind separates from reality. He becomes light, like mist, floating above his body, heading straight into a shimmering white ball of light and heat.

"Yes," he can hear Kurt moan. "God, yes, preppy…that's it."

Sebastian is bucking his hips beneath Kurt's body, thrusting up into that all-encompassing heat that Kurt possesses. He can't feel himself moving. His muscles are pliant and rubbery, apparently with a mind of their own because Sebastian's brain has stopped working. All he has left is his body and the animalistic feeling that he's about to cum, deep inside his dom's body, embarrassingly hard.

He might even pass out.

And that's okay. Everything is okay right now. Everything around Sebastian is warm and fuzzy and soft. Even the heat building inside him is soft around the edges as it starts to swallow him whole.

"Oh, preppy," Sebastian can hear Kurt mutter, the words sliding through his ears, barely reaching his brain but reverberating inside his skull. "Oh, God…"

There's another warmth erupting over his chest. It's hot and wet, covering his skin in stripes, even reaching underneath his chin. He feels his senses fire, random areas over his skin exploding, his entire being shooting out of his body in all directions.

Sebastian groans out loud. It's a strained, guttural noise, but as the tension around his neck releases, the groan becomes a gasp.

"There we go, preppy," Kurt coos, running his fingers through Sebastian's hair as he loosens the necktie. "Breathe in slowly. Don't force it."

Sebastian starts to swallow, trying to gulp in air, but the slowly loosening necktie won't let him. His body seems to know what it's doing, and breathes in on its own, following the rhythm set by his dom as he slides the knot to the tie away from his neck.

"That's a good boy," Kurt says, reaching onto his desk for a box of tissues and cleaning Sebastian's chest, except for one drop of cum that Kurt collects on his finger and slides between Sebastian's lips.

It's a rare occasion that Kurt will do that for Sebastian, and Sebastian savors it.

"How was that?" Kurt asks, planting bites and kisses down the side of Sebastian's neck.

"That was…" Sebastian pants, trying to find the right words in the thick hazy soup that are his thoughts at present, "incredible."

It's a banal word, but it'll do.

Sebastian grins wide as his vision clears and he can see his dom gazing down at him with a smug, satisfied look on his face.

"But, I still would have liked a sip from your bottle," Sebastian says with a wink.

Kurt sits straight up and slaps Sebastian across the face, snapping Sebastian's face to the side. The slap isn't hard - just hard enough that Sebastian knows Kurt doesn't appreciate his sense of humor. Sebastian's eyes pop open. He bites back a smile when Kurt roughly pulls his face back to look at him. Kurt sees how hard Sebastian struggles to maintain his straight, obedient face, and as much as he wants to be angry, as much as he wants to discipline Sebastian for his comment, he laughs instead.

"You're a cheeky asshole, preppy," Kurt says, leaning over the chair to grab the bottle of absinthe, bringing the bottle to his lips.

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, "but I'm your cheeky asshole, _master_."

It's snarkier than Kurt likes, but in other ways so sweetly spoken that Kurt isn't angered by the sly, sort of superior way Sebastian calls him _master_. He tips Sebastian's head back over the back of the chair and kisses him, slowly letting the mouthful of absinthe drip past Sebastian's lips. Sebastian swallows reflexively while his tongue goes in search of more – but not more absinthe, more _Kurt. _Sebastian moans when Kurt's tongue slips into his mouth, tasting of flowers and anise, which mixes sensually with his natural warmth and the smell of clove cigarettes and the jasmine candles he keeps lit in his bathroom at home.

Kurt pulls away and watches Sebastian, a blissful smile on his face, licking his lips to catch the last drop, or to chase after Kurt, but so completely relaxed that he doesn't move a single inch more.

"How did that taste?" Kurt asks.

"Really good," Sebastian admits, drawling with the intoxication of Kurt's kiss, "but the absinthe was only so-so."


End file.
